


Nineteen Years After That

by Mascot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Middle Age, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mascot/pseuds/Mascot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place another nineteen years after the Epilogue in Deathly Hallows.  Harry comes back to Hogwarts seeking medical treatment from an old friend and finds more comfort there than he was looking for.</p><p>Consistent with canon pre-Pottermore though who knows what that will do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nineteen Years After That

Harry hadn’t been in the headmaster’s office for decades, and he was surprised to see how little it had changed. Naturally it was still a perfectly circular room with lots of windows letting in the light, but the sameness was beyond that. Spindly legged tables with odd instruments were still scattered around the room, just as they had been when he had last been in the room years before. It was almost as if the three headmasters who followed Albus Dumbledore had been afraid to move the furniture. There were subtle changes here and there. McGonagall had put a subtle red and gold trim around the edge of the crown molding. Under the encouragement of Sprout, perhaps, Flitwick had brought in a great many plants.

The school, like Flitwick’s prized Russian Snapback Ficus, was now flourishing under the watchful eye of Neville Longbottom. Harry was pleased to see his friend looking so well. Neville’s plumpness had returned when he was in his forties, but it suited him better and better as he aged. Now he looked rather dignified. His face was strong and kind, but showed worry lines. Harry thought back to the friend he’d made in hid first year who’d had to work so hard. Headmaster Longbottom was likely a great headmaster in a very different way than Dumbledore had been a great headmaster. Indeed, Hogwarts’ O.W.L. passage rate was higher than it had ever been before. The Daily Prophet had enthusiastic things to say about the Headmaster Longbottom, and Ginny’s affection for Neville had less to do with this than it might have.

In short, Neville now looked like a man who could work every day in the same room as a portrait of Severus Snape and not bat an eyelash.

Harry was in less wonderful shape, professionally, but also physically. Even Neville seemed a little shocked by the deep scratches on his old friend’s face.

“I thought you were mostly doing desk work these days,” Neville said in place of a greeting.

“Mostly,” Harry said, managing a smile. “And the wizard who gave me these scars is in Azkaban.”

“What was it? The Lindley curse?”

“Yes, and the wand used to invoke it was Whomping Willow.”

“Impressive combination. You’ve still got a knack for getting into unique trouble, Potter.” The two stared at one another for a moment before breaking into warm smiles.

“So can you fix me, Headmaster? You still know more about healing salves than anyone else in England.”

Neville blushed. Harry wrapped his arms around Neville, who squeezed him a little too tightly and held on a little too long. “How’s Ginny?” Neville said.

Harry's wounds had begun to ache again, but he forced a smile. “She’s doing well. Being an editor suits her. The kids are very proud.”

“And you should be proud of them. James marrying that nice young witch and opening up the Beaxbatons Franchise of Weasely’s Wizard Wheezes, L.L. working on a cure for Siberian Smallpox…”

“She gets her brains from her mother.”

“…and, thanks to his band’s new album, Severus is every Hogwarts girl’s dream.”

“Never thought you’d say those words, did you?”

Harry peeked over Neville’s shoulder, shooting a playful wink at the portrait of Snape, which gave a halfhearted scowl in return. Neville laughed, but it was a bit forced. More serious topics were already on his mind. He looked around at the portraits.

“Excuse me, could everyone give us an hour?”

McGonagall and Dumbledore had small portraits in Harry’s house and spoke to him regularly, so they gave cheerful waves as they disappeared from their portraits. Everyone else was less enthusiastic, but respected Neville’s wishes. Neville leaned out the door.

“Myrtle?”

Myrtle was dressed more nicely than Harry remembered which left him wondering how ghosts get new clothes. He would ask Hermione sometime.

“Yes, Headmaster Longbottom?”

“Please see to it that Harry and I are not disturbed.”

“All right. Hello Harry.” Myrtle floated out the door before Harry could respond. Neville closed it behind her.

“Moaning Myrtle is your secretary?”

Neville shrugged. “Now,” Neville said carefully, “have you been to the Leaky Cauldron recently?”

Harry sighed. There was no avoiding the subject, and no sense lying to Neville. “Ron and I had dinner there a few nights ago.”

“How does she look?”

“Pink-cheeked as ever.” Harry said, fighting the urge to shrug. He’d never seen the attraction.

“Does she miss me?”

Harry looked into Neville’s eyes. “I don’t think she does. “ Harry’s wounds were hurting terribly, that inspired candor in him. “I don’t think she’s smart enough to appreciate what she had.”

Neville’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then his shoulders relaxed. There was no point in defending his ex-wife. “You may be right. Perhaps I was never the person she was looking for.”

Harry sighed. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. Forgive me. And yes, I’ve been in the leaky cauldron and yes, Hannah looks much like she always did.” Actually, her dresses were shorter and her makeup was brighter and her laugh was louder, but even in pain Harry knew not to bring that up.

Neville looked depressed. “If it’s not too much trouble, mate, could you see to my festering wounds?” Harry finally said. They really were aching something awful.

Neville smiled weakly, “Of course.” He walked over to the small window box garden and began making careful cuttings. “I’m surprised you find my feelings so hard to understand, Harry. Wouldn’t you be in pieces if Ginny up and left one day?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He didn’t add that Ginny was a seventh child of a seventh child, which made her immensely powerful. To say nothing of Ginny’s beauty, which was still considerable. To say nothing of their three children. Hannah was, well, an aging barmaid whose looks had long faded and was terribly stupid. And to hear Justin Finch-Fletchly tell it, she had been popular among some of the seedier wizards well before her divorce from Neville. It almost made sense given that Neville lived at Hogwarts for much of the year and Hannah was left to run the bar alone and be around a constant stream of wizards out for a good time. No matter what your careers require, living apart is never a good idea when you’re married to someone with a short attention span.

“You still don’t understand,” Neville said. He was chopping up some sort of root that he had gotten out of a cabinet next to the fireplace.

Harry’s wounds were really beginning to hurt now, almost as if they knew they were getting in their last hurrahs. The Lindley curse was a godawful thing, and it was making his whole body ache and burn.

“No,” Harry said. “I don’t. To be honest, I don’t see the attraction at all, particularly for someone as intelligent and interesting as yourself. Of all the girls you went to school with, you chose her?”

“Well, she’s no Ginny, no Hermione and no Luna,” Neville said slowly, Harry observed that Neville unsuccessfully attempted not to put particular emphasis on Luna’s name. For years Harry had assumed that Neville and Luna would some day do their work together, taking trips to the same places and building a life together. Harry suspected that her sudden elopement with Rolf had been one more horrible surprise in a life that had given Neville many. “But she’s what I had. All of you went off and had adventures and fell in love, while I was studying under Professor Sprout, staying at the Cauldron when I wasn’t either here or abroad. Eventually, Hannah thought that my moving in was the thing to do.”

“And then a big wedding in Hogwarts chapel with seven Hufflepuff bridesmaids.”

“It was what she wanted. I tried to give her everything she wanted, but it was never enough, particularly with me having to put so much time into my work. You may not have been impressed with her, but she was what I had and I do miss her,” Neville snapped. Harry had nothing to say. He felt awful for his old friend. He felt awful for himself. The pain from the gashes in his body was ridiculous. “Now then,” Neville said, his voice softening, “Off with your clothes. You can lie on the table.”

Neville's efforts had produced a bowl of dark green ointment, which he set on a side table. Harry didn’t hesitate to lay down on the desk beside it. Neville had no doubt seen a lot of war wounds, but even so, the gash across Harry’s chest made him look away for a moment. He gathered a great bit of salve in one hand and spread it across Harry’s chest.

For a moment, Harry felt no change, but then there was a delicious cooling sensation wherever Neville touched. Neville slowly massaged the green ointment into Harry’s chest, and it was almost like Harry could feel the skin fixing itself as Neville worked and massaged it. It was as if the skin on his chest were clay and Neville was joining the strips of clay back into one sheet.

“Will there be a scar?” Harry asked.

“Not if I do this right,” Neville said. Harry closed his eyes for a few minutes, letting the feeling of coolness spread across his skin. Every place the ointment touched suddenly felt deliciously comfortable. Neville moved his attentions to Harry’s left arm. Harry opened his eyes, reaching his right had up and tousling Neville’s hair. Neville smiled.

“Do you get to pleasure people like this often?” Harry asked.

“It’s one of the benefits of being a Herbologist,” Neville admitted, blushing a bit.

“Do you get to touch people any other time these days?”

The room was silent for a moment. Neville took the opportunity to rub salve into Harry’s face. The delicacy of his touch and the delicious feelings the salve produced turned what might have been a clinical act into a very intimate one.

“You know, your characteristic boldness is not as charming as it used to be,” Neville said, his fingers cool against Harry’s cheek. “That said, you may be right. I don’t know that I do miss Hannah so much as I miss just having someone around. She wasn’t really all that much of a companion, but I am tired of sleeping alone.”

Neville’s skilled hands moved down to Harry’s left arm, continuing their counterclockwise trip around Harry’s body.

“I’m so sorry, Mate,” Harry said. “Isn’t there some girl about…?”

“Some anyone would suffice,” Neville said. “I’m afraid I’ve kept my boarding school inclinations in that regard.”

Harry nodded. “We all have. England doesn’t raise its boys to be picky about such things. Girls neither.” Neville’s eyebrows arched, but he looked back down at the back of Harry’s hand, removing a nasty scrape.

“I am headmaster of Hogwarts,” Neville said, momentarily re-martialing his dignity.

“It’s certainly a powerful position; I would think lots of people would find that very attractive.” Harry left off telling Neville that he’d aged quite well. His old friend was unlikely to believe that.

Neville shrugged. “I spend a lot of time on my research.”

“Too much?” Harry was leaning back, totally relaxed. The tension was gone from his body. He felt like he was made of soft rubber.

Neville squeezed Harry’s ankle. “I don’t know about that. You seem to like this salve.”

“You invented this?” Harry asked sleepily. He had forgotten how much energy it took to be in pain. Now that the pain was gone, he was tired. Tired and happy and aroused. Goderick’s Ghost, that ointment was wonderful stuff.

“I’m a Herbologist, Harry. It’s what we do.” There was a smile in his tone.

“I knew you were brilliant, I just didn’t know you were this brilliant.”

Neville shrugged. “You have your achievements, I have mine.”

“Indeed, old friend. Indeed, you’ve had a lot more of them recently than I have.” Harry said totally without bitterness as he closed his eyes again. Goodness, his whole body felt bloody marvelous.

“Now then, head of the Ministry’s entire defense against the Dark Arts Division is impressive to me.” Neville rubbed Harry’s leg extra hard. Harry felt his prick start to stir.

“Don’t want to talk about work,” Harry slurred. It was getting difficult to speak.

Concentrating on Neville’s hands made the intense pleasure into arousal. He thought of the last time he’d felt those hands on his body, furtive sex in his sixth year. He could tell his prick was hard as a blackthorn stump. But he was so bloody tired.

“Don’t worry about that,” Neville said. “Happens to everybody.”

“Not the girls,” Harry mumbled. Neville laughed.

“That’s the last of it,” Neville said. “You’re good as new.”

“But sleepy?”

“The salve will do that.”

“And horny.”

“That too. I’m feeling that just from having the salve on my hands for fifteen minutes. As much as I’d like us to help each other out with that, I think you’d better just sleep it all off. You’ve got some powerful herbs in your system. You wouldn’t remember anything anyway, which sort of means it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“No harm,” Harry muttered. Neville felt foolish, but the words kept rushing out,.

“And, I mean, I’d like to, but, I would worry about Ginny, and your children. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt them. Well, I mean they are adults, and there was that business with Severus and the LaFolle girl, so I’m sure they aren’t innocent in the ways of the world, and it would be a fun romp to have, but still, I intend to do the honorable thing. Besides, Harry, your skin is awfully tender.”

Harry let out a long snore. Neville sighed, slightly disappointed, but mostly relieved. He leaned forward, kissing Harry tenderly on the lips. Harry smiled. Neville picked up his wand and pointed it toward a cabinet behind his desk. Two blankets floated out of the cabinet. Soundlessly, Harry’s sleeping form rose and the blankets wrapped around him.

Neville stepped out into the hall.

“Myrtle, could you go get Dean from his office in the Magical Artistic Expression wing? I could use a bit of help.”

 

Harry regained awareness before he opened his eyes. His body had no pain, though no lingering artificial pleasure, either. He was in a very large, very soft bed, almost unnaturally soft, the way wizard beds often were. The room was very quiet, though he could hear birds in the distance.

He opened his eyes. He was in a pale blue room with beautiful pictures on the walls. The furniture was ornately carved wood and there was a thick, brightly colored carpet on the floor.

“Where am I?” Harry asked the empty room. One was almost never truly alone in the wizarding world. A gray rock on the nightstand glowed softly and spoke with Neville’s voice.

“Just a moment, Harry,” the rock said.

By the time Neville had come down from his office, Harry’d had a good look around. There were a couple of large bouquets on the other nightstand and a large birdcage with blue birds hung above a desk covered books on magical educational theory. It was about the nicest room Harry had ever woken up in.

Neville bustled in,

“Sorry, Harry. Had a few things to catch up on in my office.” Neville flicked his wand and the rock on the nightstand turned bright white.

“Neville, is this room yours? It’s brilliant.”

Neville stopped and stared at him. “Well, then.” He said, looking pleased.

“What?”

“You’ve never seen the Headmaster’s bedroom.”

They stared at one another for a moment. “Of course I haven’t.” Harry snapped.

“Never doubted it, Mate” Neville said, but he was clearly relieved. Rita Skeeter had been rather quick to speculate on that point. Though such talked remained something of a sore sport for Harry, he felt his irritation with Neville draining away as quickly as it had come. It was difficult to get too angry with a man while lying in his bed.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Four days.”

“Godric’s Ghost! I have to send Ginny an owl.”

“Oh, I’ve already done that. Owls to the children, too.”

“Oh, good.” Harry said, suddenly a bit lightheaded. He lay back down.

“Only Sev actually came to visit,” Neville said, “and he brought the Experience.”

Harry winced. Severus, who had adopted his middle name after realizing “Albus” was an impossible name to live up to at Hogwarts, was the lead singer of “The Sev Potter Experience,” the Wizarding world’s most popular rock band.

“I hope he didn’t make too much fuss,” Harry said.

“Oh, he was fine, but the Fat Friar caught his drummer trying to sneak into the Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory.” Harry smited his forehead. “It’s all right,” Neville said. “I extracted a promise from him that he will play the yule ball gratis this year.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Sev sat with you for several hours a couple of days ago. He probably let his siblings and mother know that you weren’t good company.” Harry made a face. “For what it’s worth, I estimated the time that you would be asleep quite liberally. Ginny and the kids expect you to wake up in a couple of days.”

“Can I stay in the bed?”

Neville laughed “Of course.”

“Then as long as they know I’m all right, I’m asleep for another two days. I’m not quite up to visitors.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you,”

“It’s all right. I suspected you would feel this way. I don’t mind having you here a bit. We can be just mates at Hogwarts all over again.” Harry laughed and Neville’s cheeks went red “Well, I mean not in the sense that Ron and you and I were mates then.”

“And Dean and Seamus… And Justin.”

“Doubly for Justin… But anyway, I can sleep on the couch.”

“If you want,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Well, I mean, what with Ginny and all.” Neville was getting red. Harry smiled.

“I don’t ask any questions when Ginny goes off for weekends with the girls from her old quiddich team.”

Neville’s mouth popped open and he stared for a long moment.

“Personally, I blame the boarding school system. Locking us fifteen year olds up with only the same sex. Opens your mind, yes?”

“I suppose,” Neville said blandly.

But Harry was warming to his vision. “Even my parents were up to these sort of shenanigans. Narcissa and my Mother, Sirius and my father. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories I’ve heard…”

“As headmaster, I’d really rather not consider this line of thinking,” Neville said drily.

“Fair enough then, but anyway, it’s up to you.”

“You’d rather like to recapture a bit of your schoolboy glory, then?”

The comment stung, but it was fair.

“Could be.” Once, everyone had wanted him except possibly for Dean and Seamus, who had known love at first sight when they saw it. It was possible that this idea, like his running off to chase Death Easters, was one more aspect of a mid-life crisis that Neville didn’t want any part in dealing with.

At the same time, Harry had really enjoyed that message, and if Neville really was that lonely, he probably had some excellent other ointments about.

Neville sat down on the bed.

“Now then, you’re sure you remember how to do this?” Harry’s touch belied the mocking tone in his voice. It was a gentle and affectionate stroke on the thigh, more an invitation than an actual beginning.

“Oh, I know how we did it then,” Neville said. “I just don’t know how many new tricks you’ve learned.”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you then, Mate?”

At that Neville lowered his mouth on to Harry’s. The kiss was much as Harry might have expected, with waves of his relaxed ease lapping away at Neville’s anxious insistence. It had always been like this, Harry the confident one, secure in his desirability and never particularly needy, while Neville had always been the uncomfortable one, who came to Harry when only when he was desperate.

Neville’s tongue was gentle and careful, probing up into Harry’s mouth with a precision that perhaps only a herbologist could properly appreciate, though Harry enjoyed the kiss none the less for his ignorance. Harry put his arms around Neville’s neck, putting him closer.

Harry pulled him gently down onto the bed. They cuddled their bodies together for a moment, embracing the moments of anticipation. Neville put his head on Harry’s chest for a moment.

“The salve really is out of my system.” Neville said. “And out of yours.”

“And, yet, I still want to do this,” Harry said, willfully not sighing.

“Just making sure.”

“You’re sure now? You don’t have some kind of contract I have to sign, Mate?” Neville kissed him again, more forcefully this time. Harry laughed, running his hands down Neville’s chest. Neville’s heart was thumping madly. “It’s all right.”

Deep within Neville, something broke. His resistance snapped and then suddenly his mouth was on Harry’s, hungry, hot and dangerous. Their first kisses had been matter-of-fact, but this one was desperate and they both loved it. Harry gasped at the sudden change in his old friend as Neville’s experienced hands grabbed Harry’s ass, pulling Harry’s whole body tightly against Neville’s almost roughly.

At Hogwarts before, there had been a certain order to things, a hierarchy. Harry realized with delight that Neville was in charge at Hogwarts now, and his chest expanded with rising delight at the change in circumstances. He lowered his mouth to Neville’s member, which looked more erect than he had ever remembered it.

Neville caught his breath and threw his head back, enraptured by the sensation. Harry slipped a callused finger down against the tender skin behind Neville’s balls and Neville’s whole body seemed to quiver.

“Please…” Neville moaned.

 

Epilogue

Harry’s things were packed and they were enjoying a few more goodbye kisses in Neville’s bedroom when the rock on Neville’s bedside turned a bright blue. Neville leaned over and touched it. Moaning Myrtle’s voice came warbling out.

“Headmaster Longbottom, you have a visitor in your office.”

“I can let myself out,” Harry said.

“All right, then,” Neville said tenderly. “But be in touch?”

“I will” Harry said. But they both knew that it would be a long time before they had a chance to do anything beyond family dinners and other platonic meetings.

Neville climbed the stone steps to his office with great regret. His visitor was already waiting inside, toying with one of Dumbledore’s old machines. The smoke she was producing was somehow plaid. She had her wand tucked behind her ear.

“Goodness, it’s been a long time.” Neville said from the doorway. Silvery gray eyes looked him up and down, then Luna leaped up into his arms, kissing him on both cheeks.

“Oh, Neville. I’m so glad you’re here. I need help.” It couldn’t be said that she looked the same, but she did look very good. She wore a deep blue blouse and a simple khaki skirt and boots. Her blonde hair was messily piled on her hair in the muggle fashion with a great many pins.

When Luna’s husband had left her to go chasing off after some veela, Neville had known he should have written her.

“You know I’d do anything for you Luna,” Neville said. His two days with Harry had left him seemingly unable to hold any emotion back. He knew he would have to put some of his walls back up if he was to be any sort of headmaster, but it did feel good to be open with his beautiful old friend.

Her eyes filled with grateful tears. “I’ve got the most horrible Erlking scratch on my back…”


End file.
